Shadow of a Dream
by drfrankensara
Summary: Sequel to Switzerland. Sky Stryder is all grown up now with two beautiful children. However, when hate crimes break out against souls, what will her daughter Charlie do when her perfect world is turned upside down? Is the perfect utopia falling apart?
1. Preface

**Author's Note: **_As usual, we have the disclaimer. I, of course, do not own The Host or any of Stephenie Meyer's brilliant world. Wish I did. But then again, don't we all? So anyway, this is a sequel to my last fanfic entitled Switzerland. This fanfic is very different in that few of the original characters from the book will be exclusively featured. With me, fanfiction is more about taking the brilliant concepts of other authors and making them your own. So therefore, while I may not own any of the concepts created by Stephenie Meyer, all the characters and new concepts in this story are mine. I've found that while fanfiction will never be published, it is still an incredibly rewarding experience for the writing world. _

_Anyway, I'd like to thank a few very special readers who stuck with Sky and me until the very end of Switzerland. __**Pobostroudles**__, my lovely duo partner and earth/space buddy, dear you will forever be my favorite sophomore. __**MelroseProductions, **__I give a shout out to you blondie because you know I love you to death and you've really driven me to finish things just to hear that silly excited squeal that you have when I see you in the hallway. __**SilverBullet2theheart, SnowChika, minimonkeyrox, foxattack, christinesangel100,**_ _**Discus-Girl,**_ _**WhistlingPekoe, asyouwish16, someonewayoverhyper, TwiHard09, goldeneyes-502, crazygundamgirl, TopKat90, Ms. Disturbance, Auphora66, **__are some of my more avid reviewers and I must must must give a thank you to you guys. Opening my email to find a bombardment of reviews always made my day. If I missed anyone, I'm really sorry! Feel free to throw things at me. _

_Anyway, I think I've sufficiently talked myself silly so we'll get on with the fanfiction. So beings the sequel to Switzerland. Small note: This chapter is really short and it's only to introduce a few very vital characters, the main one being Charlotte. She will be the majority of the pov for this story, excluding this chapter along with a few others. But I must stress that Sky is NOT the main character of this story, Charlie is. Do not ask me to make her more prominent, because that is not my goal. _

"Eager souls, mystics and revolutionaries, may propose to refashion the world in accordance with their dreams; but evil remains, and so long as it lurks in the secret places of the heart, utopia is only the shadow of a dream"

**Nathaniel Hawthorne **

SHADOW OF A DREAM

preface

"_Charlotte Sydney Stryder, get your cute little butt over here." The young woman ordered, her sandy brown hair blowing just slightly in the light wind of the hot Arizona day. She was smiling as she unpacked the little picnic basket onto the sprawling Astroturf reminiscent lawns. _

"_But look at the butterfly mommy!" The child squealed, her dark curls bouncing as she ran after the black and orange insect now eluding her grasp. _

"_Come on little Lot, listen to your mom. You've got to eat sometime." A similarly aged man ordered as he toted along a little navy tricycle. He settled down next to the young woman, kissing her cheek as he did so. The smile that lit up her face was blinding and it was clear to any onlooker that she was utterly besotted with her husband. _

"_Lottie, come on. We've got PB and J." The woman tempted the child. The girl looked back, her deep brown eyes wide. She seemed to debate a moment, tapping her little round chin uncertainly, torn between the fleeing butterfly and the promise of the perfect combination of sandwich spreads. She finally seemed to decide as she rocketed back to the checkered blanket on long tiny legs. She threw herself into her father's arms, happy to settle like any other five year-old in an adult's lap. _

"_How do you do it Sky?" The man asked, cocking an eyebrow at his wife who was pulling out the telltale sandwich, cut crusts and all. _

"_I know my daughter all too well, Jamie." She grinned, handing over the sandwich to Lottie who was watching her mother with rapt attention. Lottie snatched the sandwich greedily from Sky and watched curiously as her mother kissed her father affectionately. _

I was torn from my flashback as a door slammed shut in the house. I lifted my eyes to the archway, searching for my daughter's familiar brunette curls to come bouncing along into the kitchen in search of the usual afternoon snack. "Hey mom. What's up?" She asked as she entered the room, dumping her backpack next to the door with a dull thud. I set down my pencil and shrugged, rubbing my neck irritably.

"Another long day. Your brother didn't want to get up this morning. He inherited your father's sleeping habits. And work hasn't been much better. But such is the life of your mother." I muttered, my fingertip tracing lightly over the bubble of a scar on the back of my neck.

"Aiden inherited his sleeping habits from both of you. I'm the only early bird around here." She pointed out, opening the refrigerator door and uncapping a bottle of juice. She drank several huge gulps, ever the fish out of water.

"I'll give you that." I laughed and smiled wistfully at her, pushing the stack of papers in front of me away. I hopped off my stool and threw my arm around her shoulders. "You're so grown up Charlie." I mussed her hair and kissed her forehead, trying not to again be overcome by the memories of her childhood. It was too easy to get caught up in nostalgia these days. I couldn't help looking back on the peace, the utopia, of our previous world. I'd only been alive a little over a third of a century and yet I'd seen so much change on the earth.

"Stop mom. You're giving that old vibe again and you really aren't that old." Charlie wined, taking another long swig of juice.

"I know. It's awful to have a young mom, isn't it?" I chuckled and turned to examine the cabinets, trying to think of something to fix for dinner.

"Not really. It's actually kind of amusing when all your guy friends say you have a hott mom. Though it's also a little disturbing. I admit, I'm a little jealous." She replied, pulling a textbook from her bag to begin working on homework.

"You, little missy, have nothing to worry about." I looked back at her and winked. If anything, she looked like I did at her age, though a little bit cleaner and with darker hair. She was cleaner merely because she'd never lived on the run as I had. I was a little bit stronger, a little more street savvy, but my daughter was still just as brilliant as I had been if not more. She had Jamie's darker eyes and my myriad of freckles. She was tall and nimble with hands as big and broad as mine, if not bigger. She was a beautiful girl and she never seemed to see it. I suspect it was easier for me, knowing that in my life looks had never been as vital.

"So says my mother. Which means absolutely nothing." Charlie mumbled, glaring at her textbook page to make it look like she was attempting to work. I wasn't fooled.

"I know, I know. A mother's opinion isn't the one that matters." I rolled my eyes and turned back to the cabinets to rifle through them and determine what I could scrounge up for a family dinner.

The doorbell rang just as I pulled a box of macaroni and cheese mix from the pantry. "It's Oliver!" Charlie exclaimed, hopping excitedly from her seat and bounding to the door. I chuckled, following her into the living room. I leaned against the kitchen archway and watched as she pulled open the door to greet her best friend and his mother. "Hey Ollie! You'll never guess what I found yesterday."

"The Book?" Oliver's sapphire blue eyes lit up with excitement as he followed my daughter up the stairs to her bedroom.

"Hey Wanda. Where's Ian?" I asked, moving to shut the door behind the small blonde woman.

"Grocery store. What about Jamie?" Wanda asked, settling herself on our ancient cream-colored sofa. I sat in the armchair next to her, biting my lip more out of habit than anything else.

"Work." I explained with a wary wave of my hand. "That's what I've been working on all day. Sorting through soul admittance paperwork is a beast." I muttered, rubbing my temple. "Not to mention how hard it is these days to get a single human to take a soul child. I'm running out of options, Wanda. Things are getting out of control. Just yesterday a soul was attacked in the middle of a mall. I can't let this go on." I sighed, tugging lightly at my ponytail.

"I know, which is why I've come over. I have bad news." Her light brow furrowed with worry and I again felt the stress slip over me from earlier that day. What happened? What horrible thing have humans done now?

"A young soul boy was rescued yesterday from an attack on his house in Tucson. His parents were souls and they resolved to have him implanted with a soul as well. His parents were killed in the flames. It was definitely arson. There is fear that he might still be targeted by agents of the NSS." Wanda stated gravely. My eyes grew wide. I'd known that the NSS was mounting more and more attacks on souls around the world, but I hadn't realized that they were so close to home.

"This is getting out of hand, Wanda. I can't allow this to go on. I'm going to have to intervene. I can't sit by in the dark anymore, no matter how much I want to." I groaned, covering my eyes exasperatedly with my palm.

"I know. I'm sorry Sky. I wish it could be done another way but I can't see it. We might have another war on our hands. The NSS isn't going to give up. They'll sort through all the souls and exterminate them."

"I know. I just wish I didn't have to leave Charlie and Aiden here alone. You will watch over them, won't you? I haven't told either of them yet that I've considered leaving." I leaned over my knees, feeling my face etch with concern. I hated to leave my children here in times like these, but I had no choice. The NSS had to be stopped. "What are we going to do about the boy?"

"He will be staying with Ian, Oliver, and I. He should be arriving later tonight and Ian will bring him over for dinner, if that is alright."

"It's fine. You know you are always welcome here. You're family." I smiled and patted her knee. "What is the boy's name?"

Wanda smiled as though this question was one that truly intrigued her. "His parents named him a human name, which I found quite interesting. His name is Nicholas. Just Nicholas."

**NCP: **

_The moment he walked in my front door something changed. It was like the air was being pulled from the room. He'd created a vacuum around me and I was slowly suffocating. His bright red hair and vibrant green eyes had me spellbound for a long moment and I had to remind myself to take a long breath of the nonexistent air. The way he looked at me, it was like he understood me better than I did. He was beautiful and perfect. _

_That was until he opened his mouth and began to speak._


	2. Loathing

**AN: **_I hope I sufficiently confused you in the last chapter. You may be sitting there thinking "Wtf? What is going on here?" Well I'll explain. I always explain. Fear not bleeding hearts. So here's chapter one: _

**TRACK 1: **

_What is this Feeling?--- Wicked_

"_What is this feeling, so sudden and new,_

_I felt the moment I laid eyes on you?_

_My pulse is rushing. _

_My head is reeling. _

_My face is flushing, oh what is this feeling?_

_Fervid as a flame, does it have a name?_

_Yes, ahhh: Loathing!"_

I couldn't believe I'd found it. It had been hidden in my floorboards the whole time, as it should have been. It must have fallen away from my grasp, because I found it under the squeaky floorboard six boards away from the one that opens up. I'd realized something was off when the board stopped squeaking. My dad let me borrow his hammer so that I could take out the nails and find out what goodies were inside. And there it was. The Book. The Sacred Book. Otherwise known as my middle school journal where all things secret between Oliver and me lie.

I started the Book in sixth grade when my Language Orator encouraged me to start keeping a journal. He'd told me that I had a talent with words and that in order to hone it I should continuously document my life to keep things sharp. I thought it was a bunch of baloney but I have to admit now, looking back, it has really helped me. It has made it easier for me to observe the world with my…unique point of view. Apparently, as my mother puts it, I can find flaws in even the most ideal utopia. Look at me, ever the pessimist.

"I can't believe you found it! It's so surreal." Oliver noted, flipping through the ancient musty composition notebook. I grinned, biting my lip. Dad never failed to point out the infinite similarities between my mother and me, lip biting being one of them. Oliver was looking with rapt attention at my notebook, fingering gently the pages that struck the loudest chord within him. I could almost name them without looking: the family vacation, three years ago at my mom's birthday, the school trip to the Grand Canyon, and many more. Our memories together had been clearly marked in that notebook for the past three years until it mysteriously disappeared in my floorboards last summer.

Oliver is my best friend. Always has been, always will be. We grew up together. He's the human son of my Aunt Wanda (soul) and Uncle Ian, though neither of them is directly related to me in any way. So, if we went by that logic, he's also my quasi-cousin, but it definitely doesn't feel that way. He's a year and a half older than I am and he taunts me for it. Mom used to say that Ollie and I were attached at the hip. Our parents didn't know what they were getting into when they made play dates for the two of us together. I do actually have a real cousin who is actually two years younger than I am: Caroline. She is Aunt Mel and Uncle Jared's daughter. We don't see them as often anymore because Aunt Melanie decided to move them to an old piece of land Jared's family had once owned.

So, therefore, Oliver has always been the closest family I've had other than my parents and my little booger of a brother, Aiden. Aiden is seven and basically the bane of my existence. I don't think he qualifies as a family member, more of a tumor or a thorn in my side. But I do love him. I have to, don't I? Isn't that required in the Idiots Guide to Being a Good Older Sister™? I just would prefer that he didn't nose in on my privacy every chance he got. He's really a sweet kid; he just doesn't know when he's not wanted. A little oblivious, that one.

"Did you ever think of starting a new one? This one is basically filled. You know, like The Charlie Bible 2.0." Oliver asked, closing the Book with a snap and handing it back to me. I hugged it to my chest, shrugging.

"I don't know. I've never really considered it. I just always figured there would be one and only Book. Besides, now I feel like if I started a new diary it'd be too explicit for the rest of the world. They'd be shocked and awed at the thoughts that go through my brain." I mused, stuffing the Book under my pillow. It felt comforting to know it was so close. I couldn't dare let Aiden ever get a hold of it. I'd probably die. And if I wrote a diary now…well let's just say I'd have to bury it in Yellowstone to keep my precious secrets from being discovered, even by Oliver.

He doesn't know that I have a massive crush on him, and I intend to keep it that way. See, here's the thing, the Book was an outpouring of ALL my secrets. I could vent and weep away my sorrows and frustrations to it, document my happiest days, and then I'd show it to Oliver and he would know how I was feeling without my actually having to say it. I've never been great at expressing my feelings aloud. Except maybe anger. I'm really good at that. But back then my secrets didn't involve him. At least, not in the romantic way. But now…if I jeopardized our friendship in any way I don't think I'd ever be able to forgive myself. I love Oliver, whether that is as a friend or a future lover, I don't know, but either way I do love him and if I lost him I don't know what I'd do.

"You should. You're a great writer, Charlie. I doubt anyone would hold it against you." He laughed, punching my shoulder lightly. He was settled in my only armchair while I sat against my headboard, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling leftover from my childhood. The room was painted a dark purple, the walls decorated with my aimless doodlings of years past. One wall was full of pictures of friends, family, distance so-called relatives, and so on. It was as though I had documented my entire life in this room, my thoughts inscribed in the very paint and plaster.

"Maybe I will." I muttered, unable to completely deny anything that Oliver said. He had his mother's bright disposition and his father's vibrant blue eyes and contrastingly dark hair. It was so easy to get lost in them, luxuriating in the sapphire blue as though swimming through the Milky Way. It was almost hard to believe that those eyes were real.

"So, do you want to go the park later for dessert?" Oliver asked, unzipping his backpack and producing two pink coconut covered snow balls. My eyes lit up and I shifted on the bed to face him. He knew my weaknesses too well. My other half, as it was. I had three ultimate weaknesses: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, snow balls, and coffee. Mom disapproved of the coffee because she said it stunted my growth, but I think that is a bunch of baloney. While Oliver did not share my affliction for caffeine and sweets, he did cater to me in order to control me. It really wasn't that hard. Either way he was a master of manipulation.

"You are a master of mind control." I whimpered as he stuffed the little packages back in his bag with a mischievous grin. I flopped back onto my bed throwing my arms over my eyes in exasperation. I didn't want to have to wait for my sweet treat, but he was going to torture me. As was his way.

"It's what I do." Ollie laughed, standing and sitting next to me on the bed. I peeked through my arms at him. "What's up with you? You seem…off." He noted. He was so perceptive in relation to me. Obviously we'd known each other too long. He'd seen more of my skin than any boy I've ever dated. I've seen more of HIS skin than any girl he's ever dated. Our parents decided it was cute and clever for us to bathe together as toddlers. I discovered what a penis was pretty early on in life; though since both of us hit puberty such practices have ceased for a very long time. Oliver could always tell when I was feeling uneasy and I could always tell when something was wrong with him. I could swear sometimes that we were merely a single person split into two separate pieces. I am the Yin to his Yang.

"I think Mom is up to something. She's been acting weird lately. She hasn't said anything to me though and you know we tell each other everything." I muttered, sighing and rolling onto my stomach. My mother and I were really close, but lately something was off and I know she was trying to keep if from me to keep me _safe _or whatever kind of crap that means. Side note: you know what is really hypocritical? My mom cusses like a sailor, but am I allowed to utter a single curse word? Heck no. Substitutions abound.

I felt Oliver lay down next to me. I turned my head to look at him, again bombarded with the way his eyes affected me. "She'll tell you eventually. She always does." He reassured me with a smile.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Not that you aren't always right." I rolled my eyes. Ollie had a knack for being right about everything. If he didn't know he simply didn't say anything at all, but if he knew he voiced it. It wasn't that he was a know-it-all, because he honestly had no idea he was doing it. He was just a brain with legs and there wasn't a whole lot of common sense there. I was the common sense in the relationship, the emotions, and the creativity. He was the logic, the smarts, the analyst.

"I'm not always right." Oliver defended, bumping my shoulder gently. I rolled my eyes and laughed.

"No, but when you aren't you don't profess to be right, so you still win every time."

"You've got a point there." He chuckled, raising an eyebrow at me.

"See. It's a cruel world." I set my chin on my hands glaring at my dresser. "You're always right, I'm always wrong, and the world keeps spinning. Life can't throw me a bone every once in a while?" I grunted, burying my head in my arms, my dark curls falling to cover my face.

"You aren't always wrong. You're just always pessimistic." Oliver noted, pulling back my curtain of hair to look at me. I turned on my side to face him and he mirrored me. His smile was skeptical. He knew that I didn't really profess to be wrong all the time; it was merely that I was being overdramatic as usual. What the hell was my problem (take that MOM)?

"I know. It's just me being me." I sighed and picked at a loose thread on my comforter. Laying like this, it was easy to get caught up in the idea that Oliver liked me the way I liked him, but I knew I was just deluding myself. He thought of me as nothing more than his crazy, quirky, pessimistic best friend, and almost-cousin. But still, it was nice to imagine, if only for a few seconds at a time, that I had a chance at a relationship with him.

"I like you being you. It's definitely you. I wouldn't have you be any other you." Oliver said, tugging at my hair lightly. It was something he'd done for years to calm me, sooth me from any stress or high I might have been on. It only seemed to further my delusions of romance.

"You really need to stop saying you." I noted unenthusiastically, my heart hurting because I wanted his words to leave a message of love and not friendship.

"But you just said you, so you really can't talk about me saying you." He grinned and flicked one of my wild curls back into my face.

"Crazy person." I laughed, thwacking him in the arm playfully.

"That so?" Oliver's eyes challenged me and I immediately knew what he was going to do next. Crap.

"Oh no. Don't even think about it mister!" I warned, rolling onto my back in order to get up and run. But he was too fast. He pinned down my shoulders and proceeded to tickle my sides mercilessly. I squealed and fought against him but Oliver had Ian's height on me and was therefore much bigger than I. I was stuck. "Uncle uncle uncle!" I cried, my fingers curling around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin to make him stop. He laughed and knelt over me, letting me catch my breath.

Oh my. My heart wasn't just racing from the tickle session, oh no. Oliver's face was inches from mine and his smile was dazzling. By now I'd caught my breath but neither of us was moving. I thought, for one glittering moment, that he was going to kiss me. My fantasies were going too far. One of these days I was going to slip up and our friendship would be ruined.

"Charlotte! Oliver! Come downstairs for dinner." My mother called and I stiffened reflexively as though I'd been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Ollie sat up and stood, offering his hand to help me up. I waved it off and sat up on my own, pressing my hand to my face to make sure I wasn't blushing noticeably. I was, but what could I do now?

I followed Oliver out of my room and down the stairs. At the foot of them stood Wanda and Mom, talking in hushed tones about who knows what. The doorbell rang and I was unsurprised when Wanda muttered something about it being Ian. Mom opened the door to welcome in Ian and…woah.

The moment he walked in my front door something changed. It was like the air was being pulled from the room. He'd created a vacuum around me and I was slowly suffocating. His bright red hair and vibrant green eyes had me spellbound for a long moment and I had to remind myself to take a long breath of the nonexistent air. The way he looked at me, it was like he understood me better than I did. He was beautiful and perfect.

That was until he opened his mouth and began to speak. "Where is dinner?" He mused as my mom shut the door behind him and Ian.

"Rude much? Who is this joker?" I asked as I came to a stop at the foot of the stairs. I leaned against the banister, raising my brows skeptically at the newcomer. He seemed to be a little older than me, maybe Oliver's age, and he held himself in an utterly nonchalant and superior way. I wanted to punch him. Any previous feelings of affection were merely hormones doing their usual mojo on my sex drive.

"Ah, um, Charlie, this is Nicholas. He's going to be staying with Ian and Wanda for a while." Mom took me by the shoulders and whispered in my ear. "Be nice, Lot, he just lost his parents." Her tone caught me off guard and I staggered back a little on the step.

"What happened?" I asked, my brown eyes wide with confusion.

"I'll tell you about it later. But right now make him feel welcome, okay." She patted my shoulder and kissed my forehead, smoothing back my dark hair as she went. She proceeded into the kitchen, calling back lightly. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Make yourselves at home."

I nodded after my mother and began to make my way into the living room. "Hey, short stop. How's it going?" Ian asked, ruffling my hair and giving me a light pat on the back. What was it with people messing with my hair? Did I look like a poodle to pet? I should hope not.

"It's okay. Life is boring as usual." I noted unenthusiastically as I flopped down on the couch, sitting cross legged on a single cushion. Oliver sat on my right while Wanda and Ian sat on the loveseat. Nicholas, who I would expect to be behaving awkwardly in such an alien environment, appeared completely at ease as he sat comfortably in Mom's favorite armchair. I raised a single eyebrow at him, still skeptical. He'd just lost his parents? He sure wasn't acting like it.

"If only you'd been born twenty years earlier." Oliver noted, snickering.

"I wouldn't have wished that upon either of you." Wanda noted seriously, casting her eyes apprehensively at Nicholas. He seemed unfazed. He was picking at the armrest contentedly, looking as though the world was not turning under him; he was just frozen in time, doing things his own unique way at his own unique pace. Weird.

"So, Nicholas, where are you from?" I asked, turning to look at him. He looked up with those striking green eyes curiously, as though surprised that there was anyone else in the room besides himself.

"Tucson." He stated simply, uninterested in my conversation starter.

"We used to live in Tucson." I noted amiably, trying to feebly learn what was going on beyond his aloof façade. "But we moved to Phoenix because Mom is like the sheik of peacekeeping, so living in the capitol is kind of important." I mused, waving my hand aimlessly. I realized that I was babbling about nothing of consequence, but I'm not very good with awkward silences. In fact, I have to fill any silence with noise. Oliver says it's because if I don't talk or hear others talking my brain goes into overdrive and starts creating entire substitute conversations to fill the space. This is, more or less, true.

"Does she always talk this much?" Nicholas asked with an amused brow raised. He was studying me closely, like he was sizing me up. It was a little disconcerting and again I felt the urge to punch him. But I reminded myself that he'd just lost his parents and I was supposed to be nice to him; it was hard though the longer he chose to ogle me like a piece of meat. Did I mention that I never had a problem expressing anger over any other emotion?

"Pretty much." Oliver nodded vigorously. I punched him in the arm and he laughed, rubbing his shoulder though I'm sure it didn't hurt him. Another thing my mother and I have in common: we like to punch. Hence, the boxing classes I have every Tuesday afternoon.

Nicholas suddenly looked intrigued, like my quirk was more fascinating than Einstein's Law of Relativity. I blushed and looked away, annoyed. Didn't he know that it was rude to stare at people? "So, Nicholas, what is your last name?" I asked, trying to divert any attention away from myself.

"Call me Nick. And I don't have one." He shrugged, putting his feet up on the coffee table. I have this thing with feet. I don't like them. And his on MY coffee table were killing me. I wanted to take a chain saw and slice them off saying something like _"That'll teach you to put your dirty nasty feet on my coffee table biatch!" _I also have a tendency to be violent. Shh. Don't tell anyone.

My eyes grew wide, a little surprised. "Really? But your name…" I trailed off, waving uncertainly. I'm not really sure what I was trying to convey besides confusion but Nick seemed to get the gist.

"My parents were souls. As am I." He stated simply, matter-of-factly, as though it should have been obvious. Cocky bastard---wait what? He was a soul!

Took me a while to get that. I was too concerned with his offhand attitude to realize what he'd said. Nick was a soul. A SOUL! I never would have known. His attitude was the exact opposite of any other soul I'd ever met, as most of them were quiet and peaceable. Nick was different though. He clearly thought, from the way he stood, spoke, and sat, that he was superior. I wasn't sure what the story behind this was, but I'll admit that I was more than curious to find out.

"Oh." I responded spectacularly, completely at a loss for words. I wanted to sink into the couch cushions and disappear into oblivion. I don't think about what I'm going to say, ever, and it gets me into trouble. Therefore, my next words deserved the beating I was bound to get for them. "So, your parents were killed because they were souls, weren't they?" Mom would have blanched at this point, had she been in the room. Ollie, Ian, and Wanda seemed to cover that particular image well enough though. I felt Oliver stiffen besides me and elbow me a little to indicate that I'd done something stupid. With that realization I clapped my hands over my mouth in shock, blushing furiously. "I'm so sorry. That was so rude." I cried, hiding my face in my long dark curls.

"They were. Let's leave it at that. You ever hear the phrase curiosity killed the cat? Yeah, that applies here." Nick too appeared rigid and the look on his face sent terrified chills down my spine. I buried my face in my hands, utterly ashamed of how stupid I had been. Didn't I know better by now than to let my mouth get away with me?

"Dinner's ready." My mother called as she proceeded into the dining room with plate after plate of steaming food. "Aiden! Dinner's ready. Get down here pronto!" She ordered, waving us all into the dining room. Her interruption and transition was my saving grace. We all stood and proceeded to the table where I sat at my usual place smack in the middle. Oliver sat next to me and to my immense horror Nick sat on my other side next to Ian at the head of the table. "Jamie should be back any minute." My mother noted, settling in across from Oliver. Wanda sat next to Ian and I heard the distinct footsteps of my little brother bounding down the stairs.

"Oh! Mac n' cheese!" Aiden exclaimed excitedly, settling across from me. His brown eyes were wide and animated. It didn't seem to register with him that there was a newbie in our midst. Aiden had always been a little ADD.

"Aiden, I realize you've always had a one track mind, but maybe you'd like to distract yourself one second to greet our new guest?" My mother noted, smiling with amusement at her seven year-old son.

Aiden looked up abruptly from the bowl of macaroni and cheese he was pulling towards himself. The look of complete surprise on his face had me giggling just a little bit. Aiden wasn't the most observant apple in the bushel basket and he often owned up to it, but in this moment it was very hard to ridicule the look of pure innocence on the boy's face. He scanned the table totally bewildered before letting his eyes fall on the red head next to me. His eyes widened with awe and he dropped the spoon full of noodles he'd been holding back into the bowl. I glanced at Nick's face. He looked completely pleased with himself, utterly unsurprised by Aiden's magnetic reaction towards him. "Hello Aiden. My name is Nick."

It was in that short moment that I realized Aiden would idolize Nick as though he were a movie star come to dine with the lowly of the world. Well crap. I knew my brother all too well. When he was five he began wearing a cloth tail because he loved the ancient Scooby Doo reruns on the Kid Channel. I had no doubt the kid would beg Mom to dye his hair red and have his eyes transplanted for green ones.

"Nick is from Tucson. He'll be staying with Ian and Wanda for a while." My mother noted, checking her watch irritably. I expected that it was because my dad was late. She was probably more worried than anything else. I had to admit that he was later than usual. I glanced at the clock on the wall to find that my father was indeed a good half an hour later than he usually was.

"Awesome!" Aiden exclaimed, holding up his hand for a high five with Nick. Nick chuckled and high-fived my brother. Crap. Crappity crap crap crap. Now Aiden would want Nick over all the time and regardless of the fact that I knew practically nothing about Nick, already his presence made my skin crawl. I've come to realize that my intuition about people is usually correct, and there was something about Nick I just couldn't stand: another similarity between my mother and me.

"So Nick, how old are you?" Oliver asked, managing to wrestle the bowl of macaroni and cheese from my brother. I marveled at his ability to do so. I though my brother would turn into the Hulk if his precious mac n' cheese were taken away. Apparently he was too enamored with Nick. Ugh.

"I turn eighteen next month." Nick noted, sorting through the other food items placed on the table.

"Awesome! A May kid like me!" Oliver laughed holding his hand up to mirror my brothers act. I blanched, eyes going wide at him. Oh no. My worst nightmare. My best friend was marveled by Nick too and Nick had barely said two words in the last twenty minutes! Was I the only one who seemed to understand that he was a chauvinistic jerk? (Ok, maybe I'm being a little harsh here, but sitting next to him I really cannot describe the feeling of revulsion I felt. I wanted to crawl over Oliver and curl up behind my mother as though it might save me from his invisible feelers of misogyny).

Nick grinned and high-fived him as well. Guys. What was with them and high fives?

"Will you continue school here?" I asked as I tried not to look up at Nick. I couldn't deny the red head was slightly captivating in appearance. It wasn't often you found a red head as attractive as he. Few could pull off the hair color. Not only that but he worked it in stride and it was clear that he knew how handsome he was. Damn it. I hoped he wasn't attending school with Oliver and me, but I knew chances were slim that he wasn't. He and Ollie were the same age which meant they'd be spending a lot of time together which, by transitive property, meant that I would be spending a lot of time with carrot top. I think I need to get over this whole urge to barf thing.

"Yeah. But unfortunately for you and Aiden I won't be attending the elementary school."

Oh no he didn't. My mom's jaw dropped and she giggled, buttoning her lips in a clear sign that she was trying very hard not to laugh out loud. Oliver snorted and Wanda mirrored my mom. Ian actually laughed. Aiden seemed rather disappointed so he didn't really notice the jab Nick had made at me. I narrowed my eyes and tossed my hair over my shoulder, choosing to take the high road and ignore his snide comment. I realized it was a joke, I just didn't find it funny.

"You're funny." I stated unenthusiastically, spearing my food more violently that I should have. Oliver tensed beside me. He knew how nasty my temper was and it was mounting. He'd have to hold me down if I went all green and veiny.

"Charlie's a sophomore." Oliver stated for me, more out of protection of Nick's bodily organs than defending me. Which only made me madder. Again I felt the need to kick a puppy. Luckily we didn't own a dog, so no innocent animals were harmed in the making of this journal.

Nick merely nodded, digging into his own food without a care. He didn't seem to notice or care that I was spitting steam out my ears. He was so collected. I was almost jealous. I've never had a cool head. My parents have always been so much calmer than me. The only ones with a temper like mine are Aunt Melanie, Uncle Jared, and Caroline. I sometimes wish they lived in town so that we could spend more time together. Caroline and I are pretty much identical in disposition. I'm not exactly sure where I inherited my temper. Maybe the gene was recessive.

I heard the front door open. My mother looked up from her plate and stood, mumbling something about 'that being Jamie'. She disappeared into the front hall. An awkward silence followed her as we all tentatively ate the food on our plates. Aiden didn't seem to notice the awkwardness, but then he is a seven year-old. Being observant is not his forte. I faintly heard my parents whispering something but I couldn't make out what it was for the life of me. Evidently the information was too tender for our ears. Both entered the dining room with a look of staged innocence. I couldn't help being a little suspicious of their bittersweet expressions.

"Hello Nicholas. My name is Jamie Stryder. I understand you'll be staying with Wanda and Ian for a while?" Dad said, standing behind me as he extended a hand out to Nick. Nick smiled and shook it firmly, nodding. "Hey little Lot." Dad greeted me as I turned to look at him. He ruffled my hair and kissed the top of my head. I let out a low growl as he went to sit at the head of the table, trying to orchestrate my hair back to something that looked presentable.

Nick snickered next to me as I tried to rein in the beast. Involuntarily I slapped him in the arm, growling a warning under my breath. Oliver nudged me, a signal that I needed to calm down. He opened his left palm under the table for me and I took it with my own left hand. This too was another way he'd always learned to calm me with. I don't know if Nick noticed but if he did I don't really care. Oliver and mine's relationship cannot be expressed or explained in any other way that simply seeing it. He's just my best friend. I don't know how to explain it any better than that.

Dinner proceeded rather uneventfully after that. The parents discussed daily events while us kids sat back and got bored as they jabbered into dessert. Eventually my mom dismissed us to the backyard so that they could talk about, and I quote "Adult Matters". Translation: either they are talking about things top secret or sex-related. Honestly, I think Oliver and I are mature enough to handle both. Nick? Probably not. And of course Aiden is definitely not ready for the whole "I'm a girl, you're a guy, and if we put the peg in the hole we get something pretty!" talk.

I settled onto my favorite swing set, kicking at the matted grass aimlessly. Oliver sat next to me on the other swing and Nick leaned against the support beam, watching me with more interest than I wanted from him. Again it felt as though he were sizing me up, as though he understood me better than I did. Aiden was tinkering with his math homework. He seemed deep in thought: his tongue was sticking out of his mouth and he had a crease in his brow deeper than the ocean. Math: also not Aiden's forte.

"When do I get dessert?" I whined, picking at a blade of grass I'd picked off the ground.

"All in due time, padawan." Oliver laughed, patting my head.

"Dessert? A second one? Do you eat second breakfast and elevensies as well?" Nick snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

I glared, tossing the grass I was holding violently at the ground. "Look buddy, if you want to keep your private parts I suggest you keep your mouth shut capice?"

"Charlie, calm down. He didn't mean anything by it."

"Shut up Oliver. He has no right to come to my house and insult me." I snapped, standing and storming away to fume in privacy. If I let myself cool down I was less likely to take someone's head off later.

"Is she always so fiery?" I heard Nick ask.

"Pretty much. She's like the Hulk only smaller and less green. She took out a girl twice her size when she was seven. It was impressive, even if she was suspended for a week."

"She doesn't look that scary."

"She's city boxing champ three years running. I wouldn't mess with her if I were you."

"I dunno. Sounds like fun to me."

Being convicted of murder is bad, correct? Damn it.

SHADOW OF A DREAM

"I can't believe he's staying with them. I can't go to their house if he's there. My head will pop off my shoulders." I flopped exasperatedly onto the couch after our guests had all retired to their home. Dad was upstairs forcibly tying Aiden to the bed. Mom sat nest to me, gently rubbing soothing circles in my temple. She once told me that I was just like her at my age. I worried—no thought—too much for my brain's capacity. She took up the practice of rubbing my temples when I got into fits such as this in order to calm and relax me. I was too overdramatic and temperamental for my own good.

"You will have to learn to deal with him, little Lot." She replied, brushing back strands of my dark hair.

"Why? I was hoping with my infinite spy skills I could avoid all contact with him. It's not like I live with him."

I felt my mother stiffen next to me and I turned to look at her. She had a guilty expression on her face that clearly said she was going to tell me a secret she'd been trying to keep from me for a long time. "Oh no. You're abandoning Aiden and me to join a traveling circus. You and Dad will be acrobats who wrestle with the tamed lion!" I cried overdramatically, throwing my arm my eyes.

"Close, but not exactly." She laughed, pulling my arm from my face to catch my attention. "Your father and I have to go to D.C. for a while. It should only be a few weeks so you don't need to stay with Ian and Wanda but all four of them will be checking in regularly on you and your brother."

Shock transformed me and I blinked dumbfounded for a moment. "Wait, I don't understand. Why do you have to go to Washington?"

She sighed, toying idly with my hair as only a mother can. "It's hard to explain, Charlie. Nicholas' parents were killed by the NSS. The NSS, or National Sterilization Society is a terrorist organization bent on ridding the world of the 'scourge' that is the souls. With so many gone now and so few coming in, it's become increasingly easier for the NSS to target souls. I'm the Peacekeeper, Charlie. I have to take care of this. I can't allow the NSS to hurt anymore souls. Soon enough they'll start attacking humans friendly to souls. I can't let that happen, especially if you or Melanie or Ian or Carly or any of the family got targeted. The attacks are getting worse, Charles. I have to take action." She concluded, brushing her thumb across my cheek. I blinked, surprised and sunk further into my seat.

"When are you leaving?" I asked a little more timidly than I expected. I wasn't sure if I truly felt any concern or fear, but my voice reflected enough to make me shiver just a little. I don't express a whole lot of emotion besides anger, so this slip of my carefully protected façade was unexpected and more than a little unnerving. I couldn't help wondering if what my mother was going to do would put her and Dad in danger. I couldn't imagine anything scarier than losing my parents prematurely.

Wow. Now I felt horrible about Nick.

"Next week, baby."

**NCP: **

"_So, do you punch like you play monopoly?" He grinned challengingly and I couldn't hold back the laugh of satisfaction of knowing that I was finally going to get to punch him for the first time. I've been aching to do so for so long. A week and a half is just too long. _

"_You wish. Get ready to get pummeled strawberry." I sneered, throwing my best right jab…_


End file.
